C.I.A. Cocaine in America?: A Veteran of the C.I.A. Drug War Tells All

C.I.A. Cocaine in America?: A Veteran of the C.I.A. Drug War Tells All

Language: English

Pages: 332

ISBN: 1561713228

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Book by Bucchi, Kenneth

Bad Moves: How Decision Making Goes Wrong, and the Ethics of Smart Drugs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

win. And anyone that isn't, can join another game, Our country isn't paying us to lose." "Win at all cost, right?" Jerimiah persisted. "No. No, but I'll spend every last dime to stop from losing. Then, if I still lose, I can live with myself. My father taught me that. Winning at all cost — no. But don't concede until you're spent." I reached into my pocket. "It appears I've got a couple nickels left yet to spend. Are you in or out That's all I'm asking." We entered the barracks and gathered

heavily on the overall picture. I realized that this was a calculated move, designed as a fail-safe, under the remote possibility that we would gain the upper hand. The guard's M-16, I thought. That's it. Oh shit! I had left it at the base of the beam. My mind went into overdrive. Box had a gun. But if I called to him, I'll give away my position. I could hear calls from the rest of the team. They weren't going to be patient while I considered our options. "Box! Box!" I screamed, but couldn't be

would, or could do, but it seemed like a name worth remembering. Back in Murray, Kentucky, I scrambled to get my affairs in order. I was told that immediately following our trip to Colombia, I would be leaving Kentucky permanently. I would need to travel light, so I arranged to have all my furniture picked up by a usedfurniture store. I went out with Andy a few times, taking her to church on Sunday in hopes that her conscience would be aroused. I figured if she confessed her transgressions to me,

corners of the room. Our internment gave everyone ample opportunity to discuss the day's events and render opinions. That this incident would likely have occurred irrespective of command structure, pointed to a deep seated problem. Box and I were the only members of the team not prepared to defray direct responsibility. Verbal assaults flared and might have been easily defeated, however, if it were only a question of responsibility. ''Why the hell didn't we stick to the original plan?" questioned

waited patiently for our team's arrival. Parked adjacent to us were a couple of C-130 transports. "Damn. I never thought I'd be happy to see one of those pigs again." I said relieved. "I don't know what the hell you're so happy about! I'm piloting you all the way into Colombia!" The pilot was a chubby man with pulled back hair that concealed a balding crown. His clothes were loose, with an Hispanic flavor to them. He chose not to 194 KEN BUCCHI give his name, but certainly had no misgivings

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